"It's a study of language, imagery, and Mr. DeWitt being difficult. It's good reading, but it's hard. And his tests are hard anyway," she complained. There was a pout on her lips, even.

"Les Mis was last semester. If I didn't love reading so much, I'd be convinced that he's trying to kill all of us." Papers and tests and quizzes galore. So much to do. But it would all be over soon, she kept telling herself, and then they could move on to other things.